


The Prince, and The Bookseller

by notsowriterly



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: ...i think, Angst with a Happy Ending, Commoner!Annabeth, F/M, Prince!Percy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:31:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowriterly/pseuds/notsowriterly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stormed down the stairs. “Who exactly do you think you are, coming into the shop at ten o’clock on a Sunday–” The boy turned around, and oh. Annabeth liked to think of herself impervious to a pretty face, and it was true, the sea green eyes and the strong, tan lines of him, despite being pretty, didn’t draw her in, but something about the way the boy looked at her underneath his lashes, hopelessly confused and beguiling all at once, his face an open book, made Annabeth soften, just a bit. He looked, despite his coiffed appearances, like a puppy, back from the yard, covered in mud, looking at you with those big eyes and pleading you not to yell at it for getting muck all over your prized oriental rug.</p><p>Annabeth was always a sucker for puppies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince, and The Bookseller

Annabeth was ready to hunker down for the rain. It was the one thing she truly hated about the city, the rain. In the outskirts of the kingdom, in the sunny shores of Forina where she was born, she was truly happy.  Here, in the heart of the kingdom, she was miserable. The rain always made her moods less than desirable.

So it was no surprise, when some  _idiot_ , completely ignoring the blatant “closed” sign on the door, decided to march into her book shop, Annabeth was _fuming_. When Annabeth heard the bell above the door ring while she was upstairs in her room, she almost didn’t believe it. She should’ve believed it. Customers always got ruder and more obnoxious, not less.

She stormed down the stairs. “Who exactly do you think you are, coming into the shop at ten o’clock on a _Sunday_ –” The boy turned around, and  _oh_. Annabeth liked to think of herself impervious to a pretty face, and it was true, the sea green eyes and the strong, tan lines of him, despite being pretty, didn’t draw her in, but something about the way the boy looked at her underneath his lashes, hopelessly confused and beguiling all at once, his face an open book, made Annabeth soften, just a bit. He looked, despite his coiffed appearances, like a puppy, back from the yard, covered in mud, looking at you with those big eyes and pleading you not to yell at it for getting muck all over your prized oriental rug.

Annabeth was always a sucker for puppies.

She crossed his arms, fixing the boy with a glare, because despite softening, it was a  _Sunday_ , and spat out, “What do you want?” The boy looked around, like he was just realizing where he was. That made Annabeth’s frown go deeper. If not for the store, why did he come in?

“Um, I…I was wondering, I mean, if you were…if you…”

Annabeth groaned. “For god’s sake–”

“If you had a job?”

Annabeth stares at him. He’s dripping wet, his clothes are fine silk, and he wants a job? None of this computes. Who does this anyway? And who would accept this kind of proposition? Only insane people.  

But…She takes a look around the shop. She tries to keep the shelves as meticulous as possible, but the past owner was terrible at organizing and never did, and now there were sections that were just plain messes that Annabeth never got around to. The shop needed the help.

She looks back at the boy, who looks at her nervously. “What’s your name, exactly?”

“I’m Perseu–Percy. I mean, Percy. Percy Jackson.” Annabeth scowls at him.

“You’ll be up by first thing tomorrow, sorting that section. And you’ll sort it alphabetically, and then depending on the job you do, we’ll see if you’ll stay.”

——–

He does a terrible job. He shows up in the morning, in the same clothes as yesterday, looking bedraggled, and his hair was practically pointing up in spikes. Despite it all, he smelled like the sea.

Not that Annabeth was noticing.

In the middle of his job, he cajoles Annabeth into having lunch, and manages to knock over another pile of books in his haste to clean up after.

He’s honestly a terrible assistant.

Annabeth pays him his first salary and tells him that if he doesn’t clean up by tomorrow, he’ll be out of the job.

The next day he still doesn’t clean up, appearing in the same clothes and progressively more rumpled, and Annabeth sighs, and takes him shopping, because apparently he can’t manage to do _anything_  right.

Percy goes behind the screen to try on trousers. He steps out shirtless.

Annabeth’s mouth goes dry. She tries to call upon the objectivity that lets her see her friends shirtless and yet not get the same heat that flushes her cheeks now. But she can’t help it. Something about the way Percy looks, with that stupid lopsided smile and the teasing “so what now, Annabeth?” makes her want to climb him like a tree. She breathes in, breathes out. Focus, Annabeth, focus.

“We’ll get a few more of these. And then a few shirts. But for god’s sake, remember to put on the shirt with pants. I don’t know where you come from, but shirtlessness and pantslessness is not appreciated here.” Percy laughs it off, but does, thankfully, try the next set of shirts with pants, and Annabeth breathes out a sigh of relief.

Two days after that eventful shopping trip, Annabeth sees the true problem. The reason Percy is so rumpled and dirty every day is that he has absolutely no place to stay. Annabeth finds him that morning, sleeping in an alley as she runs her morning errands, and her heart aches.

The next day Percy is on a cot in the corner of her flat upstairs, which is both a blessing and curse, because now she gets to see him, sleepy and smiling in the morning, his hair messed up like a little kid, and Annabeth has never met someone so innocent but so dangerous, that could make her feel this way, this fast.

So of course, it all has to end two months later.

At this point, Percy had easily become a constant in her life, bringing water from the well for her every morning, charming customers and causing her to scowl. She gets used to it, the goofy jokes he makes when the day is long and the way he reminds her to eat and drags her away from work when he knows she’s too tired.

Annabeth finds herself falling, and hates herself for it.

Because he has yet to tell her, who he actually is, and she still remembers the fine threads of the first shirt he wore. How can you fall in love with a person you don’t know?

She almost asks. Almost tells him how she feels and that she  _wants_  him, all the time, like an ache underneath her skin, and that something about him makes her feel like the sun in Forina is shining on her, no matter where she goes.

They’re sorting books again, that evening, legs pressed up against each other, thigh to knee. Annabeth feels every point of contact like a brand. Finally, she puts the books down, and sighs, turning to him. He turns toward her too, and he’s far too close, all of a sudden. Her eyes dip down to his lips. To hell with everything. She puts a hand on his neck, and she can feel his pulse, thrumming against her fingertips.

“Annabeth?” His voice is soft, a question, an answer. She moves forward, and their lips barely touch before–

“Perseus? Is that you?” Annabeth freezes, because she knows that name. She knows that voice too. She knows that voice because it was the one that she’d relied on, bleeding and half dying as she finally managed to come to the kingdom, and she knows that name because it’s the name everyone’s been saying since birth,  _Perseus, the Crown Prince_. She draws back, and doesn’t look up. She just looks at Percy, and she can see the guilt in his eyes before he even says a word. She gets too her feet, and turns to Grover, who’s wearing the clothes of a squire, looking hopeful and confused and sad all at once.

She knows what this means. It means that Percy is someone she can’t have, can never have. It means that Percy was lying to her, and he’s more needed somewhere else. She doesn’t look at him, can’t look at him, as she says, “I want his things out by tomorrow morning.”

And by the next morning, he’s gone. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know when I can update this fic next, but I haven't given up on it yet! I'm so sorry to you guys, I know that I said a week. I'm trying, I really am.


End file.
